


Little Red Button

by scribblywobblytimeylimey



Series: Wired [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 6k of smut, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Barebacking, Begging, Cock Rings, Corporal Punishment, Dehumanization, Doggy Style, Erotic Electrostimulation, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Gags, Humiliation, I don't think I've ever written anything this filthy, Kinda, M/M, Ownership, Robot Kink, Roleplay, Sex Slave, Sex Toys, Spanking, Steve is Tony's sex toy for the evening, Steve is kinky as hell yo, Stony - Freeform, Superhusbands, Top Tony, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, and he loves to get pushed, and used, but not really, fluff with a hint of smut, in a nice way, loljk, mentions of:, punished, really giving Tony a run for his money, well actually the ending is fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1562564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblywobblytimeylimey/pseuds/scribblywobblytimeylimey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'All There in the Manual' for firelordstark: “[I]t would be interesting if roleplaying an android were an actual kink of his and not just his subconscious trying to construct a situation where Tony would be interested in him.”</p><p>(What do you know? Freud was right.)</p><p>Tony takes so well to Steve's suggestion he starts to wish he'd mentioned it sooner. It's easy to believe the rest of it – that he's the sex-toy android Tony built for when Steve's not around, built to please him, modded within an inch of his life to react to pressure sensors in all the right places – when Tony's even gone as far as to integrate a voice modification filter that fits like a gag but lets out every last sound, not quite in Steve's voice, but flattened a little with a tinny edge, just like he *would* sound if he *were* a robot sex toy.</p><p>And that's not even all of it. One of these days, he's going to learn to never underestimate Tony Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Red Button

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firelordstark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelordstark/gifts).



> 1\. Warning: this takes all of the themes of its prequel and dials them up to 11 – light BDSM becomes BDSM, dom/sub undertones become a full-on dom/sub dynamic, and instead of dreaming about being a robot Steve is actually a frigging robot
> 
> 2\. Unbeta'd. Corrections always appreciated!

3\. **On a lighter note,** and since I can't put in links above: Coming up next is an (unrelated) multi chapter fic which will be almost entirely smut. You should be very excited about it. If you like anything I’ve done so far, please consider following me on tumblr [here](http://scribblywobblytimeylimey.tumblr.com) (I’ll follow you back too!) for updates, and if you’d like to request a kink or something to be explored in this upcoming chapter fic, there’s the place to do it. If you'd like updates messaged to you on tumblr, just let me know!

 **I will not be posting any of it until it is finished.** There are no WIPs on this account. So once I start posting, the kink window has closed, and chapters will come on a regular basis or faster by kudos (see notes on my other fics). I’ll let you all know if I need to go on hiatus, but it won’t be because it’s unfinished if so!

4\. I've been getting REALLY into the headcanons for my own fanfics, _but_ I like to think of Cap as a bit of a closet Sci-Fi fan, maybe an early Asimov reader. The time before he was frozen was getting really exciting for science, and in-universe, the original Human Torch was an android created in... _where else?_ Brooklyn, New York, in the 40s. Couple that with such materials as a talking humanoid robot and [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_HDA8pH4R_4) conceptual video for future robots which could respond to requests, speak, and perform simple tasks to serve their owners, which I personally believe could have sowed seeds of contemplation in Steve's mind, not least because it was shown... _where else?_ Respectively, the 1939 and 1940 New York World's Fair!

~~There we go. This fic is practically canonical~~

 

* * *

  

 

 

Steve's naked and hard on all fours on the bed. He hasn't even been touched yet, but he's ready. So ready. Ready to be used, spanked, fucked so hard they break the bed but he's still begging for more.

Unfortunately, it isn't up to him.

He can hear Tony breathing behind him. Whenever he can hear that, he knows the sight in front of him has distracted Tony away from words, and it does something to his gut; but it still makes his cheeks flush a little, too.

Eventually, Tony manages to pretend he wasn’t gawking. “You remember your safeword.”

“I remember,” Steve says softly. He smiles. “You're sure as hell not gonna make me use it, though.”

Tony laughs quietly at him and he’s shaking his head like this isn’t happening. “Look at you,” he murmurs, half to himself. “Hell, I'm gonna end up using it myself. You're just too much, you know that?”

They’re bathed in the low light of a lamp and nothing more, and while Steve is naked, Tony is still half-clothed. It’s not extravagant. It’s almost as if it  _isn’t_  happening. If only Steve could convince his body of that for a little while longer. “Put it on.”

Tony just tuts at him, leaning back to survey him. “Patience is a virtue, Cap.”

“Tony.” It's only times like this he ever does feel impatient; but then Tony always did get under his skin. He shifts, takes a breath, tries not to let the frustration into his voice. “I want to continue this conversation. I just want to do it through the gag.”

“Uh, it’s not a gag,” Tony responds.

Steve smiles to himself. “Let me have  _one_  word that's easy to remember?”

Tony snorts. “Like I use long words?”

“Acronyms count. Come on – let me try it on.” He's come this far, and he knows Tony's just waiting to hear it. “…Please.”

It's a golden mouth plate. It reminds him a little of the old sci-fi he's been catching up on, and more than a little of Loki's muzzle after New York.

God knows that shouldn't turn him on, but it’s exactly the sort of thing that would.

It snaps on over his mouth and comes down and out to meet his jawline, but no further. It fits perfectly, and over his mouth is a metal grill, finely perforated golden mesh, which seems to hum when he breathes.

“You wanna try it out?”

He's nervous to. He knows how he thinks it's going to sound – he's got a vision of his own dreams, mixed in with a lot of that vintage sci-fi; and if it's even a fraction as good as he's hoping, it's going to drive him crazy.

“Steve?”

_“Yeah,”_  he says, and he suddenly realizes his own memories of the dream weren't up to scratch.

It's better than could have expected, and his body shivers and clenches.

Tony tilts his head in appraisal. “Sounds good.”

Steve tries to say “Oh, God, yes”, but it comes out – in his voice, yes, almost, there's enough of it preserved to know it's him – but he can almost picture the graphs and bars and algorithms whirring on the inside, flattening the edges and making his pitch just that little bit more uniform, as well as giving it that little  _je ne sais quoi_ , like he really was speaking through layers of metal grating, all the vibrations tinny and perfect, robotic, crafted; made by finely-tuned elements, not vocal cords. It's like Tony really has turned him into a robot.

Or like he's made a robot that can beg to be fucked in the most realistic imitation of a bedroom voice to date.

He breathes out, long and slow, because the sound of it is making him ache, but even that breath comes through in that perfect, metallic tone.  _“Fuck.”_

It's him speaking, and it isn't. And hearing the part that isn't is going to be his undoing. 

The sound of Tony’s fingers on his own stubble, slightly too slow to just be pensive. “Should we get started?”

“ _I think we'd better.”_  He bites his lip inside the gag. Herein lies a problem: how is he going to be able to respond without ending up tipping himself over the edge with the sheer sound of it? How is he going to use a safeword if the first syllable suddenly paralyses him with climax?

Tony takes a deep breath himself and nods sharply. He brings his hand down to Steve's back, gently, and even the soft sound he gives in response to the touch makes him squirm, eyes rolling back as he tries not to make another sound. Not yet.

“Got you ready just in time,” Tony says to him, voice all business. He never fails to slip into character like a professional. “You look just right, don't you? And you sound just like him. Say it for me.”

Steve’s caught off guard, about to blurt anything to catch up, and what comes out naturally is _“Yes, master.”_

His cock throbs delightedly at the sound of it, and his mouth – his  _throat_  goes dry. He tries to swallow. He's riding a high already without any contact; the very idea of it is fucking him raw. He has to clench and unclench his muscles, rocking his hips against the desire to reach up and palm himself.

“Best not tell Steve about this, hmm?” Tony says. “I don't think he'd be best pleased, do you?”

_“N...no, sir.”_

“There's a good boy.” His voice is cool and distant. “You know what I built into you?”

He can't stop shifting, feet caressing one another and toes digging into the sheets.  _“No, sir.”_

Tony leans in close, breath tickling against his ear until Steve swallows. “Pleasure sensors,” he whispers, “pressure sensors. Touch them, and you feel good. Or as close to feeling good as something like you can get. It's simple 'If...then' circuitry. If I rub my  _dick_ ,” his hand closes around Steve's ass, fingernails digging in, “Against your fake prostate, then you're gonna moan. You won't be able to help that.”

Steve's cock twitches hard, wet and slick at the tip.  _“You like it when I moan for you?”_

Tony's voice is warm and heavy like the room. “Makes me wanna fuck you into next week.”

Steve knows in that instant he can't stand it another minute. 

Teeth graze his earlobe. “You’re programmed to buck up against me and whimper just exactly the way that’s gonna get me off hardest.”

He can’t reply.

“And you don’t get to finish until I say. Only I can flick that switch.”

Nothing.

“And if you don’t do as I say, there are circuits built in to punish you.”

Just keep breathing.

“But you’re going to be a good little virtual fuck buddy, aren’t you, Steve?”

He isn’t bound and he isn’t gagged, but he feels tied up and so do his words.

“Steve?”

He clenches his eyes shut.

Tony’s frowning. “Steve? Is this no good for you?”

He gasps as an urgent response.  _“It’s good,”_  he says.  _“It's too good. I can't...”_

Precum hits the white sheet over the mattress, turning just a tiny patch of it the lightest grey.

He's shaking visibly. It's not quite him, and the more he says, the more it's going to be like hearing dirty talk from an android. A helpless android built to please, built only to feel pleasure, go mad from it, its reactions just a tool for orgasm. Knowing this, and knowing there’s no other way of saying it but to  _say it,_ Steve bites his lip, eyes watering, and hears his shortness of breath translated with a hollow imitation of lungs:  _“I'm close.”_

Tony's hand stills on his back.  _“Oh.”_

He takes a shaking breath. “Damn it, Steve,” he murmurs. Then: “I had to come before this, you know…”

_“Oh,”_ Steve says back, and he's shaking, he's really shaking now, it's overstimulation.  _“I guess I didn't think.”_  He sounds so helpless. Nothing more apologetic than a robot grovelling to its master.

Fuck, he's going to lose it.

“You want me to finish you off first?”

He's in danger of going off by himself before that.  _“Yes.”_  And he's trying to speak quickly, keep it brief, to-the-point, but if anything it makes him sound more like an AI.

“You gonna ask me nicely?”

_“_ ** _Tony_** _,”_  he says desperately, because it would be too much to hear himself beg through this, but he doesn't know why he thought hearing Tony's name in that tone of voice would be any better.

He makes it quick and merciful, two hands on his dick the next instant and Steve biting back the perpetual cycle of moans, self-fulfilling prophecies. Tony's already hard, nestled there between his cheeks, and Steve can tell he's trying not to move too much while he pumps him.

He doesn't make him wait long. He can't hold back the cries that push him over the edge, the climactic moan that comes out sounding like the only sort of porno he might consider watching, Tony's hand slick in front of him and someone's sweat running down his thighs.

He nearly collapses.  _“_ Fuck, _”_  he mouths, knowing better than to say it aloud. “Ohmygod.”

Tony groans behind him. Steve feels his hand behind him, too, snaking down between them to give his cock a firm squeeze, lingering, letting go reluctantly.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ, Steve. You could have said how much this turned you on before, you know.” He passes a hand down over his face. “I feel like I could just about come in my pants myself.”

Steve moans through closed lips, thinking  _you'd better take them off, then._

Tony eyes him. “You're gagged, so you can't lick me clean,” he muses.

He's breathing too hard to respond.

Tony wraps his palm around his fingers, jerks them like a cock, and then slips one inside him with ease.

Steve's lower body convulses and he chokes on a sob. 

Tony kisses his thighs. “You know.” That tone of voice. So cocky, so syrupy, always turning his insides to bubbles. “This already makes you a bad boy.”

He chokes out a soft laugh. He’s got a good few minutes to get used to this now, now that the heavy weight of desperation has been released.

Tony’s lips barely even leave his skin, his tongue brushing against him as he speaks. “Gonna put it on you, now.”

He slips his finger out and Steve feels his opening flex and wink, just like the very first time Tony passed his fingertip down over it.

The ‘switch’ Tony uses to control his climax is a ring; golden, rigid, with an easy release, designed to be slipped on now, while he’s soft.

Tony gets it slick, and his hands, and then him. “Need to get you oiled up.”

And moves his hand back. “And broken in.”

He’s sensitive but well relaxed after that, not that there’s ever a problem with one finger. With just a bit of lube it always slides right in. He’s probably not ready for more just yet, though, even with all the preparation from beforehand leaving him clean and open and ready.

And Tony knows it. He moves back to look him over. “How do you feel?”

_“Like a robot,”_  he says. He doesn’t mean to sound sarcastic; it’s the truth.  _“It’s incredible what you can make, Mr Stark.”_

 “Aw, shucks. It’s almost like I didn’t program you to say that.”

_“But it’s true either way,”_ he argues in the calm, level voice of an android.  _“You’re a genius.”_

“Well, hey.” Tony’s rubbing the back of his head. “You’re not so bad yourself. You filed all my documents in thirty seconds flat. After this, you’re going to sort all the laundry in the tower in record time. You’re a real masterpiece, you know. Real handy bit of tech."

_“With all due respect, sir, get over yourself.”_  He smirks. He understands JARVIS a lot better now. There's so much fun to be had as an AI with sass. “ _You know you built me for fucking.”_

“Yes, well, a toy built for washing the dishes won't be great at giving head, but a living sex doll can do a pretty good job with other chores.”

_“So that's what I am?”_  It's hard not to purr. The voice sounds like him but isn't him at all. It's heavenly.  _“Your servant?”_

“Yeah,” Tony murmurs back, “Servant and fuck machine.”

Steve shivers.

“You like that? You like the idea of being my fuck toy?”

_“Yes, master.”_

“What do you want to do?”

_“I want to get you off. I want to make it good. I want to give you a nice tight hole to play with.”_

“Yes, you do. You're a good boy.”

_“Mm. That’s the way you designed me.”_

“Yep. Good little AI to separate the laundry right.”

_“Keep telling yourself that.”_ Steve arches his back and purrs,  _“You’re a filthy old man.”_

“Hey, people have been fucking their maids since the dawn of time, buddy. At least I don’t degrade you with an outfit."

_“I wouldn’t be able to stop you,”_ he replies innocently. He’s loving the sound of his voice, and it’s definitely still way too soon, but the playful back and forth is turning him on again already.

Tony decides to finger him again for borderline insubordination and definite cheekiness.

It’s probably not way too soon by now.

It’s tight with two fingers and he’s taking it slow, demonstrating to Steve all these new features which are going to drive him completely out of his mind.

“Feel how tight you are after coming. Can you feel that resistance?”

_“Yes, Master.”_  He’s deliberately avoiding his prostate, which is a good thing, as it already feels good enough without the thought of all these nerve endings having been coded by Tony to make him a realistic toy; that the pleasure he’s feeling is only binary, and Tony is in complete control of it.

“Let’s go ahead and call this an alpha test,” Tony says. He sounds so  _smug. So_  full of himself, as though he really did build Steve from scratch, and he knows he’s going to moan and squirm and twitch, but he’s pretending to run a test for bugs anyway. “So, if I’ve done this right, I just need to press right here and you’ll whimper. Three, two, one…”

Steve’s voice rushes out of him in a mess of consonants and soft vowels, high and breathless like a girl’s. His cheeks turn crimson; the noise he made was completely involuntary, and as Tony scissors him wider open Steve knows he’s going to graze against him again, this time with two fingers. His breath catches dry in his throat with a quiet little hitch at the thought of it.

“You gonna moan again, Steve?”

“ _Ah…_ ” His fingers are so hot and slick and  _just right_  that he starts to feel close again already.

The weight of Tony’s bare cock slaps against his ass cheek. “Such a little slut, moaning on command for me. How does that make you feel, Steve? I’ll admit it; I was kind. You’ve got a bit of free will - except for when I’m fucking you.”

_“Slap me with it again,”_  is all Steve can say, because otherwise he’s going to cry.

Tony pulls himself back gently, towards his stomach, and the sound of him hitting Steve’s ass on the release fills his head with nothing but the other sounds he can make with his cock.  _“Fuck.”_

Tony ignores him. “I could have a lot of fun with this, you know. These little sensations, these loops of code, from your prostate straight to your mouth - I could have it all remote-controlled. Press a button and watch it override whatever else you’re doing. How’d you like that? The others telling you to load the dishwasher and suddenly your eyes go glassy, you shudder all over, start moaning like a whore…”

_“Fuck. Me. Tony.”_ Steve’s voice is pained.His stomach feels tight. He’s going to come so hard - maybe harder than ever - he can already feel it.

Tony makes a soft sound, cock buried hard against Steve’s skin, but all he does is fuck him a little faster with his fingers. Steve rides back onto them, feeling the sweat slip shamelessly from his skin and letting the sounds pass his lips each time those blunt fingertips hit it, letting his body put on a show for them both; the sounds of him moaning as Tony commands it.

“Steve,” Tony breathes suddenly, hips rocking hard, maybe too enthusiastically against him. “Try it. Try and override the command. Just imagine it. Practice. You don’t want the others to see you like this. Act like normal.”

He eases up for a second so Steve can breathe out hard, agonised, and say,  _“The dishwasher? Of course, Master Barton. Which mode would you like me to set it t-to-to_ ** _oo_** _o…”_

His face is hotter than it’s ever been when Tony’s fingers twitch against him again and he chokes. He fights to ignore the sensation, but it feels like he really is spread out in public, looking at the shock on their faces when he makes a sex sound. Tony pauses in wait and he takes a quick, deep breath before trying to press on.  _“Would you like me to collect the cutlery from the - oh, god,_ ** _fuck_** _…”_

He can see their faces, hot with embarrassment, worried, panicked, looking around at a loss for what to do or what was happening.  _“_ ** _Uh_** _, god…um…just tell me what you need me to…fuck! Oh, shit, oh - no, don’t, don’t go, just tell me, do you want the glasses separate on the t- the t- thefuck, the,_ ** _fuck,_** _Tony,_ ** _Tony,_** _I’m going to come,_ ** _Tony_** _…”_

Tony pulls away just in time; the vision of his colleagues’ reactions to him convulsing, mid-conversation, and moaning Tony’s name, nearly push him clean over the edge, and even his lips tremble from the effort of holding back, cold sweat painting his neck.

Tony crawls back away from him a little, folds up, presses his head against the mattress, and groans. Steve can hear him playing with himself, easing the ache, what must by now be an almost painful need to fuck him, just jackhammer right into him. It wouldn’t last long for either of them. “One of these days,” he mutters, “I’m gonna fit you with a vibrating plug and I’m gonna lock you in a room with the others and I’m gonna wait till you’re in the middle of talking and I’m gonna make it screw your ass until you scream like you just did, scream my name and tell them you’re coming all over yourself…”

Steve’s next breath is a groan, long and loud, and he’ll forgive him for breaking character for a moment, because though he knows it’s just a fantasy he can’t help thinking about it, can’t tell who would be more embarrassed - he himself, squirming and shouting in his seat in a private display made public; or his friends and coworkers watching, too shocked to even be turned on, or if they were, so ashamed of themselves for it, and either way they’d never be able to look him in the eye again…it would be horrible. Horrific. And there would be no way he could stop himself from coming in his pants, and he’d hate it and hate it and love it.

Tony lines himself up against him and the tickle against his rim makes Steve keen in pleasure. “You want my cock?”

_“Yes, Tony. Yes, sir. I want your big, thick cock inside me. I want you to pound into me so hard I can’t walk.”_

“Androids don’t have that problem, Steve. You’ll walk straight and tall like nothing’s ever happened,” he says in a warning tone, and Steve has another vision of someone noticing him wincing as he tries his hardest not to limp.

_“Yes, master. I’ll be good for you. Just fuck me.”_  He’s trying to speak rationally and robotically, he’s trying a little to sound like JARVIS just to really fuck with Tony’s head, and he’s trying to use all the words he knows Tony loves, would have programmed right into him, but at the same time, it’s so hard to keep his head.  _“I need you. I really need you inside me. I want you to stuff your cock inside me.”_

He starts to jerk himself, still lined up with Steve’s hole, keeping him shining wet. “Still a few more tests I want to run,” he gasps, and it’s the gasp that gives him away. “Wanna try out a few more neat features.” He slides himself in, just the tip, but Steve clenches around him needily and it’s just not enough."

_“Tony,”_  he sobs, biting his lip, hips shaking violently, trying to get him to move. _“This isn’t_ ** _fair._** _”_

His voice is shaking.“For example, you’re programmed to repeat the phrase ‘I’m your bitch’ right on cue whenever I say the word ‘banana’.”

_“I’m your bitch,”_ Steve bleats obligingly, because he catches on quick, and it’s the most tender moment of the night for him when Tony strokes his hair, silently thanking him for just  _understanding the circuitry._

His touch is still soft when he says again, “Banana.”

_“I’m your bitch.”_

Tony slides slowly into him and Steve burns then relaxes, burns, relaxes again, tenses again, but then Tony pulls out almost before he can get used to the sensation and talks almost as though his cock isn’t twitching inside him.

“Oh, you’re making a fruit salad for Natasha?" He says while Steve's brain babbles. "How sweet. Be sure to add a banana to t-“

_“I’m your bitch,”_ he interrupts, and he’s panting like it too.

 Tony makes a show of his shock. “ _Steve!_  Who taught you how to say that? I only asked you nicely to add some banana to N-“

_“I’m your bitch,”_ he gasps back. _“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t, I can’t help, I have to…”_

“ _Well,_ ” Tony says to an imaginary Natasha, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. This has never happened before. I’d better go and take care of this.”

_“Yes,”_ Steve moans, half to add to his little fantasy, embarrassing himself, trying to embarrass Tony, let everyone know he’s built himself a filthy sex toy, embarrass  _them_  with the knowledge - and half because he can’t help it.  _“Fuck me.”_

He’ll never understand why it is that he loves it so much - Tony teasing him, Tony totally in command, the respectable, composed party, while Steve writhes around sweating, pleasure moans, bright red, torturing himself, and Tony looks so innocent while he’s controlling the whole thing.

Maybe it has something to do with coming in his pants in front of him way back when - it really had been a hell of a long time since he’d experienced anything half as intense, and he still dreams about it on occasion, the sensation of orgasm only secondary to the clenching of his muscles and his red, well-bitten lip and the grunts that escaped him when he tried to hold back, then the feeling of it shooting up and hitting cotton, sticking, running down over him, oozing, feeling the fabric stick to him then feeling his cum sink into it against his skin, and yeah, there was a reason he’d staged it a few times so that he came in his pants while Tony was naked, and yeah, there was a reason Tony had said to him “You  _liked_  that” in an accusing tone after the time he brought Steve off in a public restroom.

There’s a reason he likes it when it hurts, when Tony hits him, when Tony fucks him hard, and there  _must_  be a reason he likes people to suspect, to wonder, to shame themselves for thinking it, because  _Captain America_  can’t be  _kinky_ , because Tony Stark does say things like “Yeah, it is pretty big, but I think I can take it” out of context over the dinner table, but why should  _Steve_  be blushing so much about it, and why is his leg jumping under the table like he’s letting someone stroke it in  _public_ ; and yes, Steve  _is_  always at his beck and call, and yes, Steve  _is_  good at following orders, and  _yeah_ , Steve can’t take his hands off Tony when he’s in the suit, even though he always tries to make it look innocent, but… 

He’s distracted himself well enough that he knows he can go for longer, but he’s hungry, so hungry for it, and he’s going to have to do something to get himself punished anyway, because pain sensors, pain sensors Tony’d said.

So he reaches back and takes advantage of his strength, lifting Tony’s form by his hips with ease, just by a few inches, just enough to leave him dangling in the air if he keeps his legs folded up like that - and then Steve slams his cock into himself, pulling him back and forth behind him, treating his whole body like a dildo, fingers digging painfully hard into Tony’s ass as he fucks him into himself.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck,” is all Tony can say, suddenly boneless and weightless except for his hands clutching Steve’s sides, holding his torso up while Steve takes control of his hips, letting him ride the waves of slick hot pleasure and moan like he’s in heat, until suddenly the sheer sensation is too much and he chokes “Close”, and Steve moans long and loud but holds him still, fully inside him, two hands splayed over his ass, clenching and unclenching around him, and they gently lower themselves until Tony can slip out, hot and wet and red, glossy and swollen and sensitive.

He’s gasping so much that all he can manage to say is “Insubordination.”

Between his own choking breaths, Steve smirks.

“Have I…” Steve hears him say ‘ _god’,_ so quietly. “Have I made you that desperate, doll face?”

_“Yessir,”_  Steve answers cheekily. “ _Do I need to be punished?”_

“Bet your ass you do,” Tony mutters, reaching for something, fumbling, and then there’s a cold touch of it against Steve’s back and before anything else, a shot of pain curls through him, followed by a buzz, thunder after lightning.

Steve’s hips jump, arching his back.  _“Mmm-mm…”_

Tony rubs the skin of his lower back. “How are your pain receptors? Good simulation?”

**Buzz.** “ _Oh,_ ** _fuck_** _…”_ He can’t tell what it is - battery maybe - doesn’t care.  _“More,”_ he begs.

Tony strokes his back lightly then shocks him hard.

_“Ah! Oh, fuck me again…”_

“Not ’til you’ve learned your lesson, tin man,” he says, voice thick, giving him another shock.

Steve can’t articulate anything else, but he sure as hell tries. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s felt like he could come even with the ring on. But he can’t, of course. Only Tony can make that decision. He can hurt him all the way up to the brink, get him worked up over and over, do with him as he pleases. But the need shaking through Steve starts to panic him - if he can’t come soon, he starts to worry he’ll never be able to stop.

The words struggle their way out and his voice collapses as he speaks.  _“Please sir. I’m sorry. Please - please put it back in, I - please-“_

It does the trick, or Tony thinks he’s learned his lesson, because he strokes his back again then grips himself and

A firework display of noises lets loose - his strokes are long and full and firm and on-point, rhythm steady but steadily building.

Tony, for his part in this, sounds like he’s just pulled ten cotton balls out of his mouth. His hands slip slick on Steve’s hips, but his nails grip him in position. “You know, it’s uncanny. How realistic you are.”

Steve can hardly - think, biting back his - moans until he - tastes blood, his - entire frame rocking back - and forth and his eyes rolling back - every thrust. _“Would - would - would you like me to initiate pattern, pattern 237…”_

“Go for it.”

He shifts his hips in time with Tony so gratefully, clenching periodically, until he’s clenching by default with each brush to the center of his nerves, throat loose with want and loving it, filthy sex sounds spilling out of an android’s mouth; he just wants more. He wants to hear more of it and he wants Tony to make it happen.

Tony thrusts hard and sharp.

_“Mn,”_ Steve grunts. “ _Pull my hair.”_

“Ask me _nicely._ ”

_“Please, sir, would you pull…uh.”_

Tony threads his fingers through his hair as he speaks and then tugs his head back, using it for leverage as he thrusts, rightly ignoring Steve’s nonsensical babbling.

_“I…I need…Tony…need…”_

Tony’s exhalation seems to rip apart his body. “Numbers. Give me the numbers.”

_“Proximity to orgasm: one hundred percent.”_  He stutters and sweats.  _“Heart rate: one hundred and forty beats per minute.”_

“What about everything else? Think I can fuck any more pleasure into you?”

Steve thinks he might cry. “ _Readings show full capacity, sir. I just need you to flip the switch.”_  He gasps. “ _Flip the switch sir. Please, sir. Flip the damn switch.”_

“You can’t disobey a direct order, can you, darling?”

_“No, sir.”_  He can’t. It’s automatic now.

 “You have to respond as soon as I speak.”

_“Yes, sir.”_  

“Say my name.”

_“Tony,”_  he gasps.

“Beg me for it.”

_“Please, Tony, please, let me finish, please, please…”_

“Dirtier.”

_“Let me cum, Tony, Tony, let me…”_

“Mm. Louder.”

_“Let me_ **_cum,_ ** _Tony, please…”_

 “Oh, yeah. Just like that.” He’s found his feet again, fucking Steve hard, hips meeting his ass loud every time. “Gonna need you to wait a little longer, sweetheart.”

Steve whimpers.  _“Tony, no…”_

“Call me names.”

_“Let me cum, you bastard.”_

Tony groans. “Now speak in French.”

_“Je te…dete-e…este…”_  Steve moans.

 “Uh…” Tony’s biting his lip. There’s a beautiful, muffled sound when he has to release it to speak. “Tell me what you want.”

_“I want your cum in my ass. I want to feel you explode inside me. I want…I need…I need you to finish me, Tony, only you can finish me…”_

“Swear at me,” Tony interrupts him desperately, words tripping over each other in his mouth, close to the edge.

_“Fuck, oh, god, fuck you, fuck you, Tony, you dick, god, oh, dick shit whore…”_

“ _Yes,_ ” Tony says, only the word doesn’t seem to come from him anymore, just hangs in the air, bent out of shape, inhuman, “Trying to make me come, robot?”

_“Yes, sir.”_  God, his voice is  _wrecked,_  almost like Tony’s fucking his throat instead.  _“Sounds like it’s working, too.”_

“Trying to get yourself punished again?”

_“Yes,”_  he begs, simply.  _“God, yes, do it.”_

Tony does it.

For a second he nearly blacks out, it’s so good; his cry is loud and raw, pain and pleasure, and so artificial through his gag. “ _Oh, spank me,”_  he says, though he’s not in control of it, just completely on autopilot,  _“Harder, Tony, harder, sir, I’ve been such a bad boy…”_

Tony obliges him, hard, the spank to his full ass making him tighten unimaginably around Tony’s cock. Steve’s throat tries to swallow while his mouth tries to exhale. “ ** _Fuck_** ,” he breathes.

He can feel Tony’s abs clenching hard behind him as his breath roars out from between clenched teeth like a wave racing to shore. Steve might be imagining it, he’s so over-sensitized, but it feels like he’s getting wetter on the inside from Tony’s dick. It would explain why he’s frozen, hands and nails digging into Steve’s hips hard, holding him still, yes, but also holding himself as far inside as he can as he wrestles his breathing down from gasps to loud rasps of discomfort. “I’ve created a monster,” he announces on the exhale.

Steve squirms up against him; Tony swears and pushes down hard between his shoulder blades so Steve’s chest hits the mattress, then grabs hold of his thigh and angles his own hips upwards. “Like this, Steve?” He starts to thrust shallowly again, rubbing hard against him each time. “Like this?”

“ _Ah-_ ** _ahh_** …” That’s getting desperate, musical sighs out of him, which grow higher in pitch and then drop to a low groan. Tony is breathing so slowly and rhythmically his head must be full of nothing but the count of it, but Steve can’t get a handle on himself like that. His cock twitches, aching against the air, sending out a hot throb of a signal to anything around it that it needs to be touched, to touch something, just brush against it,  _please_ , and Steve can feel more slickness run just slightly down his head in protest. It beads to a stop at his sensitive cleft, and then as more moisture runs down to join it, it starts to quiver in preparation for the fall, fuelled by the force of Tony’s thrusts, and with the gentlest tickle of his own precum vibrating against his sweet spot, Steve’s teeth jump together and his tongue hits the roof of his mouth hard. “ _Nn_ - ** _hmm_**.” The breathing behind him hitches in desperation. “ _Tony._ ** _Tony_**.”

“Oh my god,” Tony moans. Steve’s hips are getting rocked so hard, so far up, he thinks he might flip over. “Yes, Steve, yes,  _yes_ …”

Steve can’t even manage to babble any further - Tony finally reaches around him, grabbing him almost violently, letting the ring fall onto the mattress with a loud click of release, and it’s like the curtains opening and Steve is blinded; he can hear a robot, pretending to scream “Fuck” over and over in the throes of ecstasy, and the way he’s coming feels like he’s firing a gun, and the way Tony’s coming makes him feel like he’s being shot, and he’s not sure if he’s still making sounds of exultation so that he can hear them, or if he just can’t help one damn part of it.

The room honest-to-god fades before his eyes, so he keeps them closed and doesn’t even bother to try looking again. It’s not until he feels drops of water against his back that he stirs. It feels cool and soothing, but it’s probably lukewarm.

“Burns weren’t bad," he hears. "Already fading." Tony's muttering, half to himself, right behind him. "I’m going to be touching myself just to the  _thought_ that we can mark you up how you like…”

Steve mumbles into the pillow through his gag and it sounds almost comical to his ears, like JARVIS waking up with a hangover.

“Steve? You still with us?”

He mumbles again, in what he hopes is a tone of assent.

“You blacked out for a good couple minutes there, Cap.”

“ _So good,_ ” is all he manages to say.

“Shh shh shh. Just gonna get you cleaned up.”

He’s half aware he’s slumped into his own cum, and then he’s aware of a warm flannel in soothing circles, and then Tony’s releasing the gag. It feels like it’s left a red mark, but it’s not too uncomfortable, and he likes the sting.

Tony sounds exhausted. There’s no way either of them are getting in the shower tonight. They’ll just have to tangle up together in bed, naked and smelling of sex.

What a tragedy.

The scent gets closer as Tony slips in beside him - Steve smiles sleepily, eyes still closed.

Tony's nose touches his. He grabs the covers and pulls them up over them; they’re too out of it to even kiss, but Tony butts his head up against him gently like a cat and snuggles close, slipping a leg between Steve’s and twining their fingers together, and he has to do all of the work because that nearly knocked Steve into a new dimension, and he’s suddenly very glad he can be a robot.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The next morning they wake up slowly, still tangled together in the soft sunlight, and Tony kisses his neck and murmurs, “Morning, sexy,” and Steve just smiles into the air, until Tony takes a deep breath and says, “So, about that laundry…”
> 
> Steve starts a pillow fight so violent and unrelenting that it takes an incredible blow job to make his grip finally go limp.
> 
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> *


End file.
